Downward Spiral

             
In my teens,
I met Mary twice.
A friend of a friend.
Pretty. Nice.

A few years later
At twenty-one
Mary’s short life
Came undone.

Atop an office building,
Unanswered prayers.
Descended to street level:
No elevator, no stairs.

*

Mary was the first
Person I’d
Met who committed
Suicide.

In the heyday of shame
Such events
Created a silence that
Was immense.

Her death was hushed up
Efficiently banished
Like mishaps where nuclear
Missiles vanished.

It took many
Many years
For whispers about Mary
To reach my ears.

*

A Golden Gate Bridge
Documentary provided
Glimpses of people
Who had all decided

They’d had it with the world
They were living in
And took leaps without faith
Into oblivion.

These images helped me visualize
Mary’s fate ---
Battling gravity means punching
Above your weight.

*

Over 200 feet in the air
Should be a corrective
To supply any missing
Life perspective.

But speeds approaching
75 miles an hour
Will deprive anyone from
Having the power

To think very clearly when
What beckons
Is a death wish whoosh of
Four seconds.

*

If you swallow pills, there’s
Always the chance
To invite salvation by calling
An ambulance.

But jump off a building & things
Are as bad as they can be.
No cavalry left to summon ---
No Hail Mary, no Plan B.

 

Sirhan Sirhan

                                               

I actually have not one but two connections

To Sirhan Sirhan.

Right from the outset, I would really like to

Be very clear on

All of the basic facts --- the first one is that

I do remain somewhat beguiled

Because I now live in Altadena near where

He attended classes as a child.

He went to an Altadena school but Pasadena

Is where he lived back in the day:

Seventeen miles from the Ambassador Hotel

Where he shot and killed RFK.

My proximity to history brings it alive and it

Reminds me how Fate can be cruel:

I ponder Sirhan and Robert F. Kennedy when

I’m driving by Eliot Middle School.

*

The second connection’s also school-related:

This happened way back when I

Was fifteen, living at home with my parents

And going to Pacific Palisades High.

I missed a whole day of school --- an event

Which alone was worthwhile:

A family friend in local news had offered to

Take me to this historic trial.

The defendant that day was quite silent, very

Much the introvert

Unassuming and tiny in his way too big, loose-

Fitting white shirt.

 

At times he seemed distinctly lost in all of

The legal proceedings

Often sitting without moving at all during

His lawyers’ pleadings.

 

A courtroom artist slowly nodded off

As I watched his techniques:

I later met the defendant’s mother &

She pinched both my cheeks.

The morning session broke for lunch and

I felt like I was in a classroom

As class just ended. I went on a mad dash

To try and find a bathroom.

I looked without success and hadn’t figured

That one would be so hard to find ---

I approached newsmen with microphones

Who wondered what was on my mind.

I didn’t think that The Fourth Estate were

Folks I should be shunning.

I stopped, blurted out, “No comment” and

Then resumed my running.